Chosen
by neopyro
Summary: Harry is spoken to in his dreams by a mysterious messenger. The messenger gives him a gift that he doesn't comprehend. Then, he starts to change. Going to be a Super Harry fic. Possible pairings later, but shipless for now.
1. Chapter 1

-1**Chosen**

**Chapter one**

"_Harry Potter. I looked forward to meeting you." _

"_Most people do." Harry responded tartly. "What is this place?"_

"_The place is not important. It is the message that matters. But to answer your question, this is a dream. It was the only way I could reach you conveniently."_

"_If this is a dream, then what is to stop me from believing that this was…well… just a dream when I wake?" Harry asked._

_The messenger man smiled. "It will just be a matter of time, Harry. You may not believe it now, but you will. Soon."_

_Harry almost scoffed. "So what message was so important that it couldn't wait?"_

"_It was more along the lines of a delivery, Harry."_

_Harry nearly rolled his eyes. "Okay. And?"_

"_There must be balance. The scale has been tipped for too long. Intervention from one side merits intervention from the other. I have come here to help you, Harry."_

"_The most helpful thing you could do, then is to stop giving me cryptic messages and start explaining them."_

"_Harry… My time runs short. Your delivery is here!" The messenger handed him an orb of solid light. It hurt to look at._

_Harry took the orb. It was like holding a cloud the size of a baseball. Harry looked away from the ball to ask the messenger something more. But he was gone. The orb lifted off of Harry's hand and hovered before him._

_The orb crackled and a single tiny bolt of blue lightning crackled and walked around it's surface. Suddenly, with the force of a thousand cannons, the orb slammed into his chest, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him flying._

And Harry awoke on the floor, out of breath and holding his stomach.

"That dream… was messed up." Harry muttered. He pulled himself to his feet and sat down on the edge of his bed. He was at his Aunt and Uncle's house on Privet drive. The last day he would ever spend there. Albus Dumbledore had sent him a letter before he died. The Headmaster had known he was going to die and had guessed most of what Harry planned to do over the next few weeks. Albus had merely said that as a dying wish, Harry should spend a final few days at Privet drive before continuing on his quest.

Harry had acquiesced only out of respect of his former Headmaster, and stayed a full week at the house. Now it was 6:14 am on the final day. In a little under Six hours, Harry would be taken to the Burrow where he would stay until a few days after Bill and Fleur's wedding. From there, he would sneak into Dumbledore's office and seal it from the inside (something Dumbledore taught him to do in his letter) and take whatever he could find that could be useful or informative on the subject of Voldemort's Horcruxes. After that, he planned to slip away from his friends and find somewhere to lay low until his birthday. He hoped he could figure out the location of one of the Horcruxes by then so that he could destroy it.

If not… well he'd probably run all he'd found out past Hermione to see what insight she could add. It was only a matter of time before they found one… right?

Due to the age restriction on his magic, it took him several hours to pack everything. He had to make sure he had it all. He wasn't planning to come back after all. By the time he'd finished packing, everyone else was up and so his Aunt forced him to make breakfast. And clean the dishes afterward. Once his Aunt had finished with him, it was nearly 11:30 and he had to rush through his shower to be ready for his Portkey when it went off.

Harry rushed into his room, placed a hand on his trunk and grabbed for the small Muggle chess piece (a pawn) that they had turned into a Portkey for him. But he knew it was too late. He watched the Portkey whipping away.

He felt a sort of snag in his mind. As if his mental fishing pole had gotten a bite, and he felt a hook behind his navel pull him through the air to the Burrow.

"Seven seconds off." Arthur greeted Harry with a smile. "I must have mistimed the Portkey."

Harry shrugged. "All's well that ends well."

"That it is. Everyone is out back waiting for you. Now let me get those bags and you can go out to see them."

Harry relinquished his trunk and made his way into the back yard. He was greeted by the delicious smell of roasting meat. Mr. Weasley had gotten a hold of a Muggle barbecue grill and had taught Mrs. Weasley how to cook on it. Apparently, she had swapped with a neighbor and traded a pig and a few chickens for a cow, because there were about a dozen steaks sitting on the grill.

Harry just smiled. It was good to be "home."


	2. Chapter 2

-1**A/n: **Thanks to all three of my reviewers! Japanese Jew, Sarah R Potter, and SufferingIdentityCrisis.

**Chosen**

**Chapter Two**

Harry didn't manage to get to bed until midnight that night. Between plotting and talking about the wedding, as well as some exploding snap, chess and a few pranks from the Twins it took forever to get to bed. Not to mention the long line for the shower and the amount of time he spent talking to Ron after the lights went out. All in all, he was lucky he made it to sleep at all.

Harry woke feeling fully rested… at 5:30 in the morning. It was too early to wake Ron or anyone else. He wasn't tired, so sleep was out of the question, and Harry thought he'd go mad if he stayed in his bed doing nothing except listening to Ron's snores.

When he couldn't take it any longer, he decided to dig out his summer homework for his classes. While he was nearly certain he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts in September, he did want to keep in practice. After all, if Voldemort died or ran away, he'd certainly want to go back to school. Or he might be forced to return due to circumstances out of his control. And he was bored. Between all of that, he couldn't see any reason why he shouldn't do his homework now. The first homework piece he managed to find was Potions. With a sigh, he got out his potion ingredients, his cauldron, and set up the flame underneath. (Harry had a really nice cauldron stand. His fire had a on/off switch. Most wizards made due with having someone else light the fire or using non-magical fire.)

Harry read from his potions book, muttering under his breath. He was always hopeless at potions. He could never remember the instructions properly, or he would forget to do something.

"Let's see… where are the beetle eyes?" Harry asked under his breath. Harry started tossing in what he hoped were the proper quantities of ingredients and tossing them into the cauldron.

"What the hell is this thing supposed to look like anyway… and what's it do?" Harry murmured before reading the passage under his breath.

"The Neethbrumg Potion is an extraordinarily difficult Potion to brew. It should not be made without adult spuervision…blah blah blah. Has a tendency to turn toxic if not prepared properly…. Aha. It says it should be a pale green when I'm done. And it bestows the ability to speak with plants to the drinker. Interesting…"

Harry added the hellebore and began to stir vigorously, as the directions said. He counted his stirs. Twenty-seven exactly, just as the directions said. Harry removed the stirring paddle and set it on a dirty t-shirt. He peered over the edge of the cauldron once the steam had cleared.

The potion was green. Exactly the shade of green it needed to be. Harry extinguished the flame and poured his potion into an unbreakable flask. The room smelled vaguely of spring Honeysuckle now. Harry cleaned up his potion supplies and made his way downstairs.

"Why is it that once I finally get the hang of potion-making and do it properly, nobody is there to see it?" Harry asked nobody in particular.

"Because you're actually brilliant at potions. We've just sabotaged every one of your attempts so far." George said from directly behind him.

"If I'd know you were brewing something up this morning I'd have re-rigged your cauldron this morning. You'd be amazed as to what a simple dung bomb can do to a potion." Fred added.

Harry laughed. "Either way, I just brewed up a batch of….erm… something to do with plants. Smells like honeysuckle and it's bright green. Neeth-something."

"Bullsh-" George started.

"We never managed to brew that one. We needed it for our Kudzu Konfections but we finally ended up having to buy it. Did you really manage it?" Fred asked, flabbergasted.

"Yeah. I've got some in my flask. Ron's room still smells like it. Honestly, it wasn't so bad. The dizzines potions we brewed in 4th year were harder than this. Honestly." Harry tried to explain, wondering why the twins seemed so shocked.

"Hey, why were you brewing it anyway?" George asked.

"Slughorn assigned it." Harry responded.

"No way! That potion is way beyond NEWT level. I want to see the assignment sheet." Fred tossed in.

Harry opened the door to Ron's room and pulled out the flask full of the potion.

"You make it out to be such a big deal." Harry said, passing the flask to Fred. He passed his potions assignment paper to George so he could see.

Fred whistled as he looked at the potion. "We might have to buy this off you."

George was reading over the assignment still. "See!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I told you it wasn't assigned. It says that any student who completes this potion successfully over the summer gets an immediate twenty points added to their NEWT score at the end of the year. He didn't expect anybody to be able to finish it!"

"Oh." Harry managed.

It suddenly felt like a terrible waste to not attend Hogwarts this year. Apparenty he might be better at potons than he thought.

The Twins left Harry there with his mouth hanging open in shock and went off to do other things.

"Must've been luck." Harry muttered, shaking his head. He poked Ron in the ribs a few times before heading down to breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chosen**

**Chapter Three**

Harry poked at his sausage and eggs with the end of his fork. He just wasn't very hungry this morning. He'd managed a few forkfuls of eggs and two sausages. Not much, but he felt perfectly fine. Harry managed a third sausage before passing his plate to Ron.

"Yur shed sev jur inrge fur Kivvitch." Ron said with his mouth full.

"Don't speak with your mouth full Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. Ron swallowed what he had in his mouth and repeated himself.

"I said that you should save your energy for Quidditch. This afternoon in the orchard, remember?" Ron said. Harry vaguely remembered a promise of Quidditch in the near future, but he didn't remember if they'd agreed on a specific time.

"Right. Personally, I feel fine. But how are we going to play? Even if Hermione plays, we won't be able to manage fourteen people." Harry pointed out.

"We're doing without beaters. And we'll go down to two chasers a team. That'll bring us down to eight." Ron replied, skewering a sausage with his fork.

"Ok… So who do we have playing?" Harry asked. "And what are we using for the quaffle and the snitch?"

"We have me, you, Fred, George, Ginny, Bill, Charlie and Hermione. You and Charlie will be seekers. Fred, George, Hermione and Ginny will be chasers and Bill and I will be keepers. We'll have a couple apples as bludgers. They don't hurt much and will only distract you. Won't knock you off for sure. We've got an actual quaffle to use. Fred picked it up at a discount store. It's got a crack in it but it'll do. And we've got a walnut to use as a snitch." Ron explained. He was waving his fork about and taking occasional bites from the skewered sausage.

"Ok… I'm going to work a bit on my summer homework. Call me when the game's about to start." Harry replied.

Ron seemed tied between the objections he was going to use. Half of his face said "It's a beautiful day and you're doing homework?" while the other half said "But I thought we weren't coming back to Hogwarts?" His face contorted with indecision. He ended up not speaking at all.

"Done eating already Harry? Here, have some more kippers…" Mrs. Weasley called after his retreating back. Harry pretended he hadn't heard her.

'What's happening to me?' Harry asked himself. "How did I suddenly become an anti-social potions whiz?" He didn't have an answer for himself, so he pulled out his Charms homework.

An essay he needed to write. About Shield charms and when to use a shield charm in combat as opposed to dodging.

Harry dug out his quill and ink and just started writing. He let his mind drift as his quill scratched across the page. Like some sort of robot, he worked through the assignment and moved on to the next. Another essay. History of Magic this time. Goblin rebellions in the seventeenth century. Harry just mentally tuned out the homework like he was doing nothing more than idly scribbling on paper. The names of historical figures, and the dates of historical events came to him automatically. He didn't even need to look through his book to double-check. He just… remembered.

"HARRY!"

Harry nearly knocked over his ink bottle. He was startled by Ron's voice. "We've been calling for ten minutes. Quidditch time. Let's go!"

"Excellent!" Harry said with a grin. He put a lid on his ink bottle and changed into his Quidditch Robes. He was outside in five minutes flat. Ron and Bill had already been selected as Quidditch captains when he'd arrived.

"Ron, call it in the air." Ginny commanded as she flipped a Knut.

"Heads!" Ron called. The coin landed tails and Bill picked first.

"Charlie." Bill picked.

"Harry." Ron countered.

"Fred."

"Ginny"

"George."

"Hermione."

The lines were drawn and the teams had been selected. Bill, Charlie, Fred and George made up one team, while Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny made up the other.

"Now, I want a nice clean game." Mr. Weasley admonished. He was home from the Ministry for the next few days because of the upcoming wedding. He had agreed to referee for the match.

"Of course you do." Fred said with a smirk. The eight players took off and Mr. Weasley tossed up the Quaffle.

George caught it, but Ginny snatched it away almost instantly. She tore off like a rocket towards Bill, who was keeper for the other team. The twins raced after her at top speed. They both went after Ginny, assuming that she wouldn't pass the Quaffle to Hermione, who was struggling to fly in a straight line.

Ginny was a little ahead of them, but they were gaining on her. Fred pulled ahead of her and she was forced into changing her course and giving up a shot on goal.

Harry and Charlie circled above, watching the game in a way that was somewhat akin to sharks.

Ginny pulled into a steep ascent. Fred and George followed her but they didn't ascend as steeply. It was obvious that ascending was very uncomfortable for them. Ginny suddenly "dropped" the ball. Right into Hermione's arms. Who was un-watched, floating near the lowest goalpost. Even if Bill had jumped off his broom, he'd have had a hard time reaching her before she scored. Hermione tossed the ball through the hoop with a satisfied smirk on her lips. The Twins exchanged a wary look. Things didn't look good for them.

Things got even better from there as Ginny and Hermione scored point after point. Ron actually landed to go get a sandwich at one point. By the time he'd eaten it, Ginny and Hermione had scored three more goals. Fred and George were still scoreless.

The twins scored their first goal later. But it barely mattered. The score was 160-10.

That's where things got complicated. Harry spotted the Snitch. Or rather the Walnut. Charlie spotted it as well, but he was farther away. They both dove for it, but Harry was doing far better.

Then Hermione got hit in the stomach by an apple-bludger and she lost her balance, falling from her broom.

Harry changed his course, aiming for Hermione instead of the snitch. There was no way he should have made it in time, but apparently Harry just had a way with brooms. Harry ended up directly in the path of Hermione and the ground. He didn't exactly "catch" Hermione, but he made a beautiful cushion. The two of them hit the ground and all went black.

**A/n: **Before you ask, there will be no Harry/Hermione shipping in this fic. I'm not even sure I'll have any ships at all. I've found that romance has a tendency to detract from the plot and make the story much more boring than it should be.


	4. Chapter 4

-1**Chosen**

**Chapter Four**

"I've never seen anything like it, Mrs. Weasley. Someone did an expert healing job on these two students, because there isn't so much as a scratch on them." a voice said.

"Miss. Granger says she remembers feeling something in her leg snap as she landed, but there is no evidence of her ever breaking a bone." a second voice added.

"I saw them both fall off their brooms from around thirty feet. Are you saying that there is nothing wrong with them, other than getting knocked out for a few hours?" Mrs. Weasley inquired. Her voice had a slight edge to it, as if she knew there was something they had neglected to tell her.

"Mrs. Weasley, allow me to explain. Whenever a bone is mended by Muggle, or magical means, it leaves behind a mark. Residue you could say. No amount of healing magic has ever removed that slight microscopic marking from any bone. Ever. Now Miss. Granger says she broke her arm when she was nine years old, and that she broke her leg earlier this afternoon. There is no evidence of either on her Magiscan. It's as if someone had removed her old bone and replaced it with a new one. The bone is absolutely flawless. Both her leg and her arm. Even the rest of the bones in her body do not measure up to the pristine quality of those. It is truly remarkable." The first voice explained.

"And Mister Potter had the bones of his right arm re-grown a few ears back as well. By all rights it should look like a piece of crackle glass in the Magiscan. Have you ever seen what a Magiscan readout looks like Mrs. Weasley?" The second voice asked.

"Of course. I went through some Healer training after Hogwarts before I got pregnant with Bill." Mrs. Weasley replied.

"So you know that bones have an off-white… sort of a beige color on a readout correct?" The second voice continued.

"Yes… What is the meaning of this?" she inquired.

"Mister Potter's bones are not like that. They are… something out of the ordinary. Let me show you his Magiscan readout." The second voice finished. There was the sound of a murmured incantation. A rustle of papers until what sounded like a thin sheet of plastic whistling through the air.

Mrs. Weasley let out a startled gasp. "I've never seen… Merlin's beard they're hard to look at. It's like they're made of burning magnesium. What could've caused this?"

"Mrs. Weasley… We've never seen anything like it either. We haven't the foggiest idea what this means, but we have reached a consensus." The first voice answered.

"What's that?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"It is unanimous amongst the staff that Harry Potter performed the healing. It is also unanimous that he truly is a one of a kind child. We are sure that the our hopes… and the hopes of the Wizarding world rest in capable hands. Having examined him, I believe that we have more than a chance of winning this war. We have a probability. Take good care of him Molly."

"Thank you." she managed. The door opened and shut as the pair of Medi-wizards left.

Harry had woken up sometime in the middle of their verbal exchange but the words had meant little more than gibberish to him. His head was foggy. They must've given him an immensely powerful sleep potion. Harry sat up and went into a coughing fit. His brain was mostly clear.

"What in the world did they give me?" Harry asked. "It made me tired as anything."

Mrs. Weasley gave a startled squeak. "What are you doing awake so quickly? They just gave you a dreamless sleep potion an hour ago."

"No wonder." Harry said in a dreamy voice. His head was clearing rapidly. "I must've built up an immunity to Dreamless sleep potions from the ones I took for nightmares awhile back."

"Yeah…" Mrs. Weasley nodded blankly.

"Are my clothes around?" Harry asked, climbing to his feet. It took a lot less effort than he'd suspected. "Hospitals smell funny, and I'd like to leave pretty soon."

"Folded on the side table. I'll go and get the others. They'll be happy to know you're awake." Mrs. Weasley announced turning for the door when she realized that Harry was about to start changing out of his hospital gown.

She turned back because she wanted to say something more She let out a startled squeak. "Harry…. Your back…. I'll get one of the Medi-Wizards. Don't move!"

Molly rushed from the room before he could respond and returned less than thirty seconds later with three healers. Each one seemed just as startled as Mrs. Weasley was.

"Hey, what's going on?" Harry asked.

"Mister Potter. Please lay down on your stomach. And take this." One Medi-witch commanded.

"Who died and gave you the authority to tell me what to do. Tell me what is going on." Harry snapped. All three healers took a subconscious half-step backwards as Harry's eyes flashed menacingly. One healer later swore that the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Another mentioned his eyes and how they changed color for a moment.

"Mister Potter… " The male healer responded. "There is a pair of abnormal bone growths puncturing the skin in your back. By all rights you should be in agony at the moment.

"Thank you for explaining." Harry said, giving the staff a smile. Harry downed the potion with a single gulp and went straight to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

-1**Chosen**

**Chapter Five**

"Mister Potter, can you hear me?" A voice said.

_Should respond… tired. Let me sleep._

"Mister Potter, it is clear that you are awake. Can you hear me?"

_Nod. Just nod. Then they'll leave us alone so we can sleep._

Harry managed the nod.

"Mister Potter, you must remove your shields and wards before we can operate." The voice.

_He's mad. No shields. Just a crazy dream. Keep sleeping._

Eventually there was an angry scoff and the sound of retreating footsteps.

_Good. He's gone. Sleep time is now._

"SOMEONE, COME QUICK! TAKE A LOOK AT THIS!"

_Blissful darkness. Sleep, how I have missed you._

-------------------------------------------- Hours Later---------------------------------

There was fabric. Soft cotton fabric. It was all he could see. He thought he could feel his head, floating a few feet above the bed. Everything was soft and tingly, as if he was being smothered by a few thousand cats. Fragments of his recollections started drifting back.

'Hermione…broom…wreck… Abnormal bone growths?' he thought. He tried to sit up, only to find that up was behind him. He was sleeping on his face because of the bones. Harry rolled and sat up. The haze in his mind was dissipating.

He wasn't up long before a nurse entered the room with a tray. A glass of water, one of those magical plates that summons whatever food you want and a tiny vase with a few pretty flowers in it.

"Have a nice rest Mister Potter?" she asked in the most polite tone of voice Harry had ever heard someone use.

"Yes, I did." Harry responded with a smile. "Do you know where they put my glasses?"

"Bedside table. Call if you need anything. I imagine one of the doctors will be around shortly to check on your status."

Harry nodded while rummaging around for his glasses. By the time he had them on, she was gone. He shrugged and decided to get up. He wasn't particularly hungry at the moment, so he left the plate for later.

He found the bathroom, used it and returned to his bed. He was still drumming his fingers on his chin to decide what he wanted to eat for lunch when the door swung open. Or, more accurately it exploded inwards. Harry saw masks and black robes. He sprang into action, and pushed over his hospital bed, to use as cover. He found his wand on the bedside table, turned and dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding a deadly jet of green light.

"Hello again wee Potty. Up for a game of Hide and Seek?" Even behind the mask, Harry knew who it was. There was no mistaking the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Bellatrix cast another spell and the bed was launched backwards. The armrest clipped Harry near his left ear, and the bed sailed past him into the huge bay window. Harry was shocked that it actually broke. He expected the glass to have been unbreakable.. Despite the disorienting pain, Harry leapt to his feet and fired off a disarming charm. Bellatrix dodged it, but it hit one of the Death Eaters behind her, causing two more to fall over in a chain reaction. The doorway had forced the Death Eaters to bottleneck, making them much easier to hit. Harry needed to hold his ground so they couldn't advance into the room and spread out.

"Avada Kedavra!" one Death Eater shouted. The spell missed by a mile. Bellatrix intentionally elbowed the Death Eater in the face and snapped "Our orders say we are to take him alive, you dolt!"

Harry was firing every spell he could think of to defend himself. Anything that he remembered using in a duel before…. And most of the stuff that had been used against him. So far he'd used everything from stunning spells to Jelly Legs.

Bellatrix was smirking at him though. Harry didn't like it at all.

"3...2...1..." she counted off.

"CRUCIO!" ten voices cried as one. Though half of those missed, the five that hit were enough to make him scream with agony.

He cast the next spell that came to mind, hoping against hope to end the pain.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" he shouted.

Clearly not what anyone expected. Bellatrix was out of the range of the spell, and so was another Death Eater that Harry recognized to be Macnair. But the other eight were not. At thigh height was a flaming line of magic that would cut through anything it touched. A few Death Eaters dropped to their stomachs and let the curse soar over them. Three tried to jump it. One ducked behind the wall, as he was still out in the corridor, and one… one stood there dumbly with his wand trained on Harry, not dropping the Crutatius curse.

Several things happened. The Death Eaters who dived all escaped unscathed, except for Rookwood whose feet were too high and he lost most of his shoe and a piece of his foot. The Death Eater who ducked behind the wall was also unscathed. Narcissa Malfoy jumped too early, and lost both of her feet at ankle level. Mulciber jumped precisely at the right time, and completely avoided the deadly spell. Goyle, who stood there dumbly lost both of his legs straight through the center of his femur. And Crabbe. Crabbe tried to jump. He did okay too, except that he landed on Rookwood, causing him to topple backwards and land on the spell he just managed to jump over. It separated hi head from his shoulders, thoroughly spraying most of the Death Eaters with blood. His corpse landed on top of Flint, pinning him to the ground, as flint weighed nearly a hundred pounds less than Crabbe.

Bellatrix and Macnair had fired spells in response to Harry's. Harry, still screaming from Goyle's Crutacius, did not dodge. Two disarming spells hit Harry straight in the stomach, and he sailed backwards… Straight through the now glassless bay window…and down.


	6. Chapter 6

A/n: I am so terribly sorry everyone. I've had problem after problem with the computer recently, which was why I haven't updated. First the internet was down for a week, then there were a few exams I had to study for... I was almost finished writing the next chapter of All it Takes on my computer when it got kidnapped by my friend to upgrade it as a birthday present... so here I am. I'll update All it Takes when my computer returns, but until then, please enjoy the next chapter of Chosen.

Chosen

Chapter Six

Things slowed down, as Harry felt his wand slip from his fingers, and his feet leave the ground. Out the window he went and his first thought was 'Wand... Catch the wand.'

He managed it, but was still going down. He tried a few spells, as he plummeted. Wingardium leviosa...Accio Parachute... he even tried to cast a banishing charm on the ground.

Needless to say, none of them worked. The ground was approaching so quickly, and he didn't have the foggiest idea of what to do. So, Harry Potter found himself reduced to what he believed was his last option. Prayer.

Of a sort. Honestly, it was more along the lines of panicked mumbling about how he couldn't die without killing Voldemort first.

Then something happened. Words came through his mind. "And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."

The prophecy. He couldn't die. He wasn't allowed to. Something would stop him.

And he was right. Harry felt magic surge through him. Like sticking a hair pin in an electrical socket, Harry was filled with energy, and with no place for it to go, it hurt.

But whatever it was, it was working. He felt the air... catching him. He was slowing down. Something was causing him to create enough drag to slow him down to manageable speeds.

Harry pumped his wings frantically...

'Wait a second... WINGS?" Harry thought incredulously.

He shook his head and decided he would explain it to himself later. Nevertheless, Harry flapped his pearly white wings, until he reached a safe speed, and pulled himself into a controlled landing.

Harry leaned against the wall of St. Mungo's hospital and took a deep breath, hoping to process all the information laid before him. There were too many loose ends, and too many unexplained happenings. He just needed some time to sit, think and ask himself "What the fuck is going on here?"

The very last thing he expected, however was for somebody to answer him.

"Harry Potter, we meet again. Why don't you come with me and I'll help explain things to you." Though Harry didn't recognize the form of the man who spoke to him, he did recognize the voice. There was no mistaking it. The voice belonged to the man who gave him his "Gift." He was the messenger from his dreams. And he definitely wasn't in the form he expected. The man looked like a lawyer. A nice tie, black business suit, with a white collared shirt underneath. He was holding a briefcase.

"The body is a loner. Don't bother jumping to conclusions, because there aren't any." His messenger told him. "Here, hop in."

Harry was about to ask "into what" but before he could say anything, he watched the very fabric of the universe unravel before him, and rearrange itself.

Now there was a car parked in the road that hadn't been there three seconds ago. It was created. Harry looked to the lawyer for understanding, but the man just smiled. Harry shrugged and hopped into the passenger seat, while suppressing his crazy urge to start muttering like a madman. Harry barely noticed the lack of a brand logo on the car. The car was white, and so was the leather inside. There were no insignias on the car, and it was purely indescribable. Not because it looked different mind you, but because of how it looked so... unremarkable.

"My own design." The Lawyer/messenger person told him."It's made to look exactly like whatever the viewer expects to see most on the road, and thusly ignores the most. You will find that people pay absolutely no attention to this car due to how plain it is. They just ignore it and keep driving, which is just what we want.

Harry found that he was leaning forward to avoid crushing his wings. He wrapped his wings around his body to keep himself warm. Clearly the man before him was an avid fan of "using so much air conditioning that your internal organs freeze solid."

After a few minutes of silence, Harry asked. "All right, could you please explain what's going on?"

"Certainly. To put it shortly, Harry you have become crowned champion of the light." The man answered.

"And what does that entail?" Harry asked.

The man sighed. "Let me tell you a story, Harry. There have always been two warring factions. Whether you call them light and dark, good and evil, or some random names pulled from the religion of the day, it doesn't matter. They still amount to the same thing. Two sides that are opposites that have always been fighting. Ever since the creation of this world, as well as all the billions of other worlds. I am an agent of one side, and I'm hitting a deadline. I was supposed to have picked a champion years ago. The other side had a champion, and this side needs one, or they shall fall. And in 1979 I was forced into making a hasty decision. And two years later, a champion was born. You. But there were still other options. I wanted to keep them all open. I wanted to make sure I knew who I was choosing before giving my final endorsement. I suppose I was biding my time. Either way, my hand was forced and I gave to you the final endorsement of your power. Certain precautions were not taken, and now you are the official champion of the light. Any questions so far?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

"Good. Now I will explain to you about your powers. Over the next few weeks you will experience: alteration of your physical form varying according to the legends of the planet you inhabit, mental alterations bound by the same restrictions as the physical alterations, changes in your personality, physical abnormalities, magical abnormalities, and severe alteration to how people react to your presence, which is brought on by some of the aforementioned magical abnormalities. Now if you would just sign here..." The lawyer handed him a glowing piece of parchment.

Harry tried to speak but was cut off once more.

"Just kidding, we don't actually need your signature. We ave your consent already, whether it's willing or not." The lawyer started laughing madly as the car accelerated to impossible speeds. Harry felt as if he was getting siphoned out of his own body. And then...

Harry awoke in a pool of his own blood. He was lying in the gutter outside of St. Mungo's and a few of his favorite people, as well as a few of his least favorite were gathered around him. He felt himself getting levitated onto a stretcher and carried back inside the hospital. He almost swore he heard the lawyer laughing as he passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

Chosen

Chapter Seven

Harry was changing and he knew it. And he knew the changes were drastic. The wings were just the first step. But changes he didn't mind. Though it meant more people were meddling with his life, it also gave him a better chance to bring Voldemort down.

The looks he got though. The looks he saw his friends give him behind his back, or when they thought he was no longer awake. Shock and awe filled their features like they were seeing him for the first time. Like he was no longer human. Nothing more than a beautiful but powerful zoo exhibit.

Harry had fully recovered from his injuries a few days ago, and it was only a matter of days before St. Mungo's ran out of excuses to keep him there. They wanted to study him. An anomaly amongst the magical people, and they wanted to know everything about it. It didn't matter that he was a person. He became nothing more than an astounding specimen in their eyes.

The final straw was how everyone else treated him. The common people that he had never said a word to. They treated him like royalty. A nurse had bowed to him before giving him his lunch. He hadn't been called by his proper name in days. Instead he had heard people call him things he'd expect to hear from a House Elf. "Sir" and "Master Potter" were the two most common titles, though one person had actually called him "Your excellency."

Between the scientists, the doctors, his friends and people he didn't know, Harry was inspired to leave. With these things firmly in mind, Harry found himself picking the lock on his door at four in the morning.

A paper clip he discovered in the waste basket finally did the trick, and Harry slipped into the hallway.

Harry still had his wand and the other things he'd brought with him, but he'd watched the doctors ward his room personally. If he cast even the weakest of light spells, they would have noticed. Harry found his way to the doctor's changing room and rummaged through a few lockers to find something that would fit. His own clothes had been ruined thoroughly and he didn't want to leave wearing a hospital gown either.

The room had hundreds of sets of doctor's robes in it. Several were in a bin marked "dirty" while there was another bin full of neatly folded doctor's robes marked "clean."

Harry didn't want doctor's robes either. They were all in a distinct medical bluish green that he wasn't overly fond of, not to mention the suspicion it would arouse.

Harry opened a locker belonging to a "Dr Howard Spence." The man had lousy taste in clothes and he was about eight sizes bigger than Harry. Harry popped open three more lockers before coming to clothing that was close to his size that he liked. Navy blue pants that were just a few shades away from black, and an easily modifiable white button up shirt. Harry ripped open the back of the shirt so his wings could fit through. Harry made his way back to Dr. Spence's locker and nicked an over-sized black robe. The fabric dragged the ground, so Harry ripped it off in long thin strips until it reached a level that looked right. He used one strip as a sash and tossed the rest into a wastebasket. He didn't rip holes into the back of the robe for his wings. Instead, he folded them back as tightly but comfortably as he could so he did not arouse too much suspicion.

He pulled on the only hat he could find. It was the ugliest shade of brown he'd ever seen, but it covered his hair and scar nicely, so he kept it.

Harry left the hospital through the front door with no trouble from anyone. Harry stopped briefly outside the entrance but only to decide which way to go. He chose to go left, and wandered down the street in the early morning light. By dawn, Harry was in a fairly unpopular diner on the outskirts of London and hadn't used a trace of magic. His only goal was getting away long enough to understand the extent of his powers, and maybe make a few useful contacts while he was at it.

Perhaps he might make a visit to the ministry in the near future.


	8. Chapter 8

Chosen

Chapter Eight

Harry nodded pleasantly to the receptionist and took a seat in one of the Lobby's chairs. He'd managed to purchase some new clothes since he left St. Mungo's and after a brief lunch at a Muggle snack stand, Harry found his way here. To the main Headquarters of the Daily Prophet that is.

Harry noticed that the receptionist was trying to get his attention. She wasn't doing a very good job of it, as she kept getting a glazed over look on her face and goggling at him for a moment before trying again.

Still, Harry looked up when she finally managed to speak intelligibly. "Excuse me." She said.

Harry looked up and shot her a glare. The effect was instantaneous, but not what he was going for. Her eyes bugged out, she subconsciously scooted her rolling office chair about ten feet further from him and got a look on her face like she was going to piss herself with fear. Harry was intending to get her to topple out of her chair. Oh well, no such luck.

Still, to her credit, she had managed to compose herself again and go back to her original task.

"Excuse me sir, but do you have an appointment?" She asked.

"No, but I will very shortly. I'm here to see a member of your staff to discuss a business proposition. She won't be expecting me, but she will see me. She'll cancel all her weekend plans if I ask nicely." Harry said with a wicked grin.

"Sir, all of our non-secretarial staff are in a massive board meeting right now-" Harry interrupted her.

"Which will be ending in approximately twenty-two seconds. I'll wait, thank you."

Twenty one and three quarters seconds later there was the sound of a whole lot of chairs getting pushed back, and people standing up.

Five seconds after that, the first of the reporters began to file out of the large meeting room at the other end of the building. Harry smiled at the clerk, and walked right into the stream of people leaving the room.

Harry found his mark without her noticing him. He moved about the crowd until he was behind her.

"Hello, Rita." Harry said.

The reporter in question jumped about a foot in the air before relaxing once she recognized who he was.

"Why Har-" she started.

"Not here." Harry interrupted. "I believe we have some very important matters to discuss. How about your office?"

Rita gave him a look, and a very significant one at that. It seemed to say "I don't know what you're up to but I don't like it so it better be good."

"Right this way." she responded, guiding him down the hall. He followed her past dozens of uniform offices. The only thing that changed from one to the next seemed to be the pictures on the desk and the name on the door.

Finally they reached one with the name "Rita Skeeter" on the door with the words "Special correspondent" written under it in smaller letters. She held the door for him and followed him in. She closed the door and put up a privacy ward.

"I hear that contracts were up for re-negotiation today. I hope you got a favorable deal?" Harry asked.

Rita made a face and tried to hide it quickly. "Not as good as I'd have liked." she responded. "I believe you said something about a business proposition?"

"Yes, I did. Rita, how would you like to quit the Daily Prophet and work for me?" Rita laughed.

"I don't see what you could possibly-" she started.

"The pay is two thousand galleons a month." Harry said overriding her.

Rita's jaw dropped. She was lucky to make that much money in six months, let alone one month.

"What would I be doing?" she asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

"The same thing you always do, Rita. The only thing that will change is you won't be the one who chooses the stories you take anymore. I will. Should you choose to accept, you will come in tomorrow when you would be signing your contract and let the Prophet know that you quit and now have enough money to retire and quit reporting all together."

"But you said I would be reporting."Rita protested.

"You would be. You just wouldn't tell them that. You would pick up a pen name for your own safety and start freelance reporting. And you would report whatever I tell you to. The stories will be dangerous, but exactly what the world needs to see. You would of course report these things truthfully and accurately unless I tell you otherwise."

"One more question." Rita said. "When do I start?"

"On the first of the month, I will give you your First assignment... Mrs. Romper." Harry said, getting to his feet.

"Mrs. Romper?" she asked incredulously.

"Sarah Jetty Romper. It's an anagram of my name. Voldemort likes to play with letters. He'll discover it eventually and it'll really piss him off."

Rita was still cringing when Harry left the room. She had no idea what she had just gotten herself into.

Harry left the Daily Prophet building whistling. He still had two more stops to make before the day was out. Both of which were (thankfully) relatively close. Harry crossed the Daily Prophet off of his mental checklist, and headed off in the direction of Gringotts.

A/n: According to JKR and the Harry Potter Lexicon, the Galleon is worth 5 British pounds. By that conversion, it means it's worth roughly $9.50 in US Dollars. That means Harry is paying Rita the equivalent of 10,000 pounds or $19,000 a month. Remember that these are at current rates, so if these are inaccurate in a year from now don't whine about it in a review, OK?


	9. Chapter 9

Chosen

Chapter Nine

There was something about Harry that scared the common wizard shitless. Maybe it was the black robes with the hood pulled over his head. Maybe it was because his feet were floating a few inches above the ground. Maybe it was because body was visibly radiating magical energy.

Either way, it seemed that the crowd of wizards and witches in the packed magical alley would always have enough space to slide sideways and clear him a path. All eyes seemed to be on him as he ascended the white marble steps leading into Gringotts.

Harry pushed the immense double doors open, and listened as Gringotts descended into silence. His footfalls echoed off the massive stone walls and seemed almost deafening in he oppressive silence of the room. The Goblins were still doing their quiet calculations and messing around with money, and almost failed to notice the impressive figure garbed all in black walking across the room.

Harry approached the desk of the highest ranking Goblin on duty. The Goblin raised his eyes from the account statement he was looking over and adjusted his glasses.

"May I help you?" the Goblin asked. The sign on his desk identified him as "Cragclaw, Senior account manager of the London Gringotts branch."

"Yes, I would like to make an appointment with Ragnok." Harry responded in flawless Gobbledegook. The Goblin raised an eyebrow at him. Few humans had a tongue capable of speaking the Goblin language. Fewer still had the balls to approach the counter and ask for a direct appointment with Ragnok, head of Gringotts bank.

"May I ask what makes this matter so important that you must speak to the head of Gringotts himself, and not one of the qualified clerks on this floor?" The Goblin politely asked in his native tongue. While he doubted that this man was important enough to meet with Ragnok, he could tell that he was quite powerful and did not intend to incite his wrath. "He would also need to know who he would be speaking to."

Harry lazily lifted one finger and hooked it around his hood, pulling it back to drop to his shoulders.

"My name is Harry Potter. I would like to speak to Ragnok about Gringotts and its continuing existence in the Wizarding world." Harry had a glint in his eye as he said this that made Cragclaw shiver.

"Right this way, Mr. Potter." he managed with a gulp.

Harry followed the Goblin, a smirk plastered across his face.

-------------------------------A few days later-----------------------

**The-Half-Blood-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named**

By Sarah Jetty Romper

_Recent studies into the historical records of the last century has just uncovered some disturbing evidence. The Dark Lord, whom everyone refers to as "You-Know-Who" was not originally born with the name we all cower before. According to this study, The Dark Lord attended Hogwarts, just like the rest of us. His name you ask? It was Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom was a Half-Blood Slytherin who was raised in a Muggle orphanage. Apparently Albus Dumbledore delivered his Hogwarts letter personally. During his seven years at Hogwarts, Tom proved himself to be an exceptional Wizard, and did astoundingly well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration and Potions. He got ten O.W.Ls and eleven N.E.W.Ts. He became the Prefect for Slytherin, and eventually, Head Boy. He graduated in 1943, and not much was heard from him again._

_Approximately fifteen years later, Tom resurfaced bearing a new name. He called himself the Dark Lord and claimed to be the Heir of Salazar Slytherin. He pledged to rid the world of Muggleborns, Half-Bloods and all who were "unworthy to study magic." _

_It makes one wonder what could possibly happen to turn a Head Boy with extreme potential with marks as the highest in his year into the hateful monster that he is today. That question is one best answered by yourself. Below are a series of pictures taken across periods of Tom's life. The most recent was taken in late 1980, and there is one from every decade since his Hogwarts years until that point. Below that, there is a complimentary anagram puzzle containing Tom Marvolo Riddle's name. Tap the puzzle with your wand and say "solvus" and the answer will appear. You too can see inside the mind of a Dark Lord... and see who he once was._

This article shockingly made the front cover of the Daily Prophet and the Prophet sold more copies of the paper than ever before. The printing press was still printing out copies of the paper at noon. Every copy sold. People were buying papers off people who had just finished their's for twice the normal rate. It was staggering. One thing was clear though. The Wizarding world was anxious to hear more from this daring new reporter.

---------------------------------With Harry-------------------------------------

Harry left Gringotts grinning. He had secured a powerful ally, and they were already working up ways to weasel a lot of money out of the accounts of known Death Eaters. Legal ways.

The bank was already foreclosing on a dozen Malfoy owned properties, as Lucius Malfoy was still in Azkaban and could do nothing about it. They planned to auction them off shortly, and Harry had already authorized access to his vault so that Griphook could bid for him on their behalf. The Goblins were, of course being paid generously for their exploits.

But he had one last piece of business to attend to before calling it a day. Harry Apparated to where he wanted to be. An Apparation point just inside the entrance of the Ministry of Magic.

He walked through the checkpoint, and had to wait several minutes for the surprised witch at the counter to stop blushing and get him an ID badge.

'What the hell...' Harry thought as he walked past the checkpoint. He turned his head and made sure the witch was still watching him. She was... and so Harry winked at her. Harry was rewarded with a satisfying THUMP! She fell out of her chair in shock.

Harry chuckled to himself and made his way towards Rufus Scrimgeour's office. Upon his arrival, Harry was greeted by a secretary.

"May I help you with something?" The young, blond secretary asked without looking up from her work. It felt vaguely like she had eyes in her forehead or something, as Harry was almost certain he hadn't made a sound entering the room. She seemed to be playing some sort of number game on a tab of paper on her desk. He vaguely recognized the Muggle number puzzle as a brief craze his Aunt had gotten sucked into a while ago before throwing out the book of puzzles in frustration when she couldn't solve any of them. Sow dookie or something. Despite her slacking, it was blatantly obvious why the Minister kept her around. Her tight, but revealing blouse proved that.

"I'm here to see the Minister." Harry responded.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, not looking up.

"No, but I will shortly."

"Huh?" the secretary said stupidly, looking up this time to see Harry Potter in all his glory. He was using magic to accent his appearance... and the slight squeak that the secretary let out proved that it was working. She blushed. "I'll go and see if he's busy."

She returned a few moments later. "The Minister will see you now."

Harry nodded to her and gave a polite smile before heading into the office. The door shut itself behind him and he walked in.

"Harry!" The Minister exclaimed, as though he hadn't expected him. "What do I owe the visit?"

"Good afternoon Minister." Harry greeted. "I was hoping to have a bit of a... discussion with you concerning the future of the Ministry."

Rufus did not like the sound of this. "And?" he asked.

"I was wondering, Minister, what all was stopping me from destabilizing the Ministry personally and rebuilding it in my own image. I have the power, the money and the fame needed to do so. I would just need to speak to a few of my contacts... and I could be Minister of Magic. Being in control of everything would make the war against Voldemort much easier."

Rufus's face turned purple, but Harry was not finished speaking yet.

"The answer is simple, Rufus. I don't want the job. I want to be the puppet behind the scenes. I do not want to be controlled by endless Beuracracy and having to look good in the papers. So, I've come here to do the next best thing. I will give you two choices Rufus. You will co-operate with anything that I say, without questioning why I ask it of you... Or I will dispose of you as Minister and place someone more... agreeable in your position."

"Why you-" Rufus started. Harry raised a hand and Rufus's mouth disappeared.

"I will return in three days to ask for your answer. That is all." Harry snapped his fingers and Rufus's mouth reappeared. "Your voice will return in five minutes."

Harry strode out the door, leaving Scrimgeour behind...shaking in his seat.


End file.
